


Why We Fight

by EachPeachPearPlum



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/pseuds/EachPeachPearPlum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because just as there is a reason for every battle, there is a reason for every participant to be there.</p>
<p>A brief venture into the brains of the knights, Arthur and Merlin, set between series 3 and 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why We Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from ff.n (where, incidentally, I have various WIPs, none of which will appear here until they're complete), written sometime after Lancelot's death but before the denial wore off (which, as it happens, was just in time for the next lot to start).
> 
> Title taken from Regina Spektor's One More Time With Feeling, which isn't quite as gorgeous as some of her songs but is still pretty damn listenable.
> 
> So yeah. Hope you like it.

Gwaine fights because he loves it. He loves the meaty thud of flesh on flesh, the soft song of steel blades being drawn, the taunting insults designed to make an opponent miss his mark by just enough to win, the fire that runs through his veins and fills him with joy and passion and strength. Of all the places he’s been, all the people he’s met and all the stories he’s gathered, he’s only ever known three things that make him feel alive: the warmth of ale in his belly, the slick slide of skin on skin, and the coppery tang of blood in his mouth from that one punch he always lets his opponent throw first so that he can say he didn’t start it.

Any idiot with half a brain knows that he’s lying. Surprisingly, the princess is one of them.

Prince Arthur tells him his fondness for women (Gwaine lets him believe it’s just women, because he isn’t quite as much of an arse as people think he is. He sees more than they think he does, too, and he isn’t going to taunt Arthur about the fact that he can pursue whoever he wants when the prince is trapped by tradition and duty and the need for blood heirs that aren’t his psychotic half-sister) and drink is unseemly in a knight of Camelot. Arthur tells him that the black marks against his name are mounting quickly, and saving his life can only win him so many points in his favour. He tells him to grow up, to act in a way befitting his age and his station (new station, the prince says, and Gwaine doesn’t bother to correct him on that, either), or he will have to face banishment again.

And then Prince Arthur offers a compromise, sending Gwaine out on patrols more and more frequently, and smiles approvingly when the numbers of bar brawls he gets into and scorned women he leaves behind drop in proportion with the number of opponents Gwaine faces outside of the city.

So Gwaine rolls his eyes and tries to content himself with bloodlust and keeping conquests on the battlefield rather than in the bedroom as much as possible, because he likes Camelot. The ale is good, more than a few of the men and women are easy, and he rarely stands alone in the battles that come to the kingdom so much more often than they do anywhere else he’s been.

Gwaine fights because he loves it, and he’s always been a great advocate of following your heart where possible.

X

Lancelot fights to make amends. He’d rather not fight at all, if he’s truly honest, but that isn’t a choice open to him.

He dreams of a small house, built with his own hands, far from the bustling glory that is Camelot. He dreams of working the land, keeping a few chickens for eggs and a goat for milk, living a long, simple life with a woman who loves him (Guinevere. In his dreams, it’s always Guinevere) and children who will grow up happy and healthy and free of the dangers he has lived through. He dreams of peace, and wakes up every morning with the knowledge that he has made it impossible.

He fights to make up for the one time he didn’t, the time he ran and hid rather than standing tall and proud between the ones he loves and the danger they face.

He knows, objectively, that that wasn’t how it was. He knows that his mother hid him in the cellar, barricading the door so well that it took him hours to force his way out once the screaming and dying outside had stopped. He knows he was only a child and that even if he’d argued his mother into letting him stay and fight, he could have done nothing except die by the same blade that killed her. He knows, and it doesn’t change how he feels.

Lancelot fights because he will never again be powerless and afraid, and being strong and alive and always between the things that make up his heart and the monsters, human or otherwise, is the closest he can have to the calm and quiet life he wants.

X

Percival fights because someone has to stand up for the weak, the meek and the unloved.

He grew up as one of them, the youngest of five in a house ruled by a man who spoke with his fists and his belt and in loud, angry bursts of words that left Percival terrified and cowering behind his mother’s skirts. A man who beat his wife and his sons, who thought women should be soft and submissive and silent and that the strong man should take whatever he wanted from anyone weaker than him, and encouraged his boys to think the same.

Percival was the runt of the litter, born too early and too small and his skin bruised so very, very easily. He didn’t speak for far too many years and didn’t grow tall enough and strong enough to make up for his silence for even longer. He listened, though, and he learnt many lessons at the hands of the man who should have been a father to him (he wasn’t, the man said. No child of his could ever be so weak and snivelling, he told Percival, and if he ever learnt which bastard it was his filthy slut of a wife chose to lay with, he’d slice his belly open and dig out his entrails to bake in the sun). They just weren’t the lessons the man wanted him to learn.

He learnt how incredibly cruel people can be to one another, how men can hurt that which they are supposed to love the most, how women can grow so tired and beaten down that they no longer try to protect themselves or their children. He learnt that the world will always be full of people who make themselves feel important by making others feel insignificant and alone. He learnt that just because someone was stronger, it didn’t automatically make them better. He learnt to take an undeserved blow as silently as he took everything else, and to store up his rage along with his words and save them both for the people who truly deserve them.

He learnt that even though he now towers over everyone he knows and can kill a man in so many ways with nothing more than the hands that once clung to his mother like she could save him, it means nothing if he doesn’t use his strength for the right cause.

Percival fights because the man who raised him was wrong, and even if is someone is too scared to fight for him or herself, it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve someone else to fight for them.

X

Elyan fights because he owes Prince Arthur his life, and because he owes him Gwen’s life several times over.

He has no delusions, none whatsoever; he knows exactly why Arthur saved him, and it wasn’t because he was Morgana’s servant’s brother. It was all to do with Gwen, and it’s not like Elyan isn’t happy for her but couldn’t she have found someone slightly safer to fall in love with? He can’t even threaten him in an appropriately brotherly manner, because Arthur’s the _crown prince of Camelot_ and there are plenty of people who’ll kill Elyan for even thinking about it.

He fights because his sister fought for him, and does still, whether or not he deserves it. Some tiny part of Gwen still believes in him, even as she shakes her head at him in disappointment, and Elyan cannot let that belief be for nothing. This time, he wants to prove that he’s worth it.

Elyan fights for family, and because he has learnt that trust ought to be earned.

X

Leon fights because the cause is just, and his leader is even more so.

He has watched Arthur grow from a tiny, spoilt baby to a pudgy, spoilt child to a strong, handsome, spoilt young man. He has watched and tried not to be drawn in by the whispering voice that told him to have hope, that this baby/child/young man may still yet become the prince and king that their land and their people deserve. He has watched and despaired, because Arthur seemed set to grow into someone unworthy of being king, cruel and selfish and a bully, infected and twisted by his father’s fears and so very desperate to prove himself worthy of praise and affection that his father does not know how to give.

For years, Leon fought because it was his duty and his right and because he knew no other way. He is a knight of Camelot and that is what they do. He fought because he was ordered to, and it was not his place to question.

And then one day, an ordinary, average idiot strolled into Camelot and insulted the prince who would one day have to lead them without his father’s guidance. An ordinary, average idiot who neither knew nor cared that there was a way to talk to royalty and it did not involve the word _prat_ unless one wanted to face some sort of punishment. An ordinary, average idiot who riled Arthur to the point where he challenged him and beat him without a second thought, flustered and angry and so unworthy of the loyalty his people showed him. An ordinary, average idiot who saved Arthur’s life (and so many more times than that once, Leon suspects, but he keeps it to himself) and found himself with a reward that was more punishment than anything else.

An ordinary, average idiot who is so much more, because as long as Merlin is around Leon can allow himself to believe Arthur will be the king his people want him to be.

Leon fights because Arthur is a good man and a good leader, because he believes in Arthur’s cause, and because Merlin is far too sensible to look at Arthur like that if he isn’t more than the man he pretends to be.

Leon fights because Arthur asks him to, and he believes he is worth obeying.

X

Arthur fights for all these reasons and more.

He fights because he has people to protect, people he loves, people he hates, and people he doesn’t even know. It doesn’t matter, because they are _his_ people, to judge and lead and love like they’re his family. He fights for peace he will never himself know, and for those who cannot fight for themselves. He fights because it is the right thing to do, and because it is all he knows. He fights because not fighting is unimaginable, and because losing is not an option. And every now and again, he even fights because he loves it just a little bit, too.

Mostly, though, he fights because sometimes Merlin has this look in his eyes, one that Arthur only ever sees directed at him, this look of supreme belief and trust and...

Arthur loves Guinevere, as much as he possibly can, but if he were not a prince (soon to be king, he knows, and the knowing hurts, because his father cannot survive as this broken shell of a man for very much longer) and Merlin not his servant...

Arthur fights because of these feelings he cannot talk about, these sentences he cannot finish, these sideways looks and quickly aborted touches that reveal so many possible worlds other than the one they live in, where what he wants and what he is allowed are the same glorious thing. He fights because of this feeling, because his blood sings and his heart soars and he has people he loves (Merlin) and people he hates ( _Mer_ lin) and people he doesn’t even know ( _Merlin_ ) that need him to.

Arthur fights because Merlin believes he can, and because Merlin believes he can win.

X

Merlin fights because Arthur does, and people and dragons can call it loyalty or destiny or duty or friendship or whatever the hell they want to but Merlin knows there’s only one word that really covers it and it isn’t one he’s ever going to say.


End file.
